


Stormy Nights

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsheplets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney doesn’t like storms, and neither does John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stormy Nights

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #153 "storms"

After that incident with the hurricane and the Genii trying to take over Atlantis, Rodney thought he was justified in disliking rainstorms for the rest of his life. He wasn’t _afraid_ of them, of course— there were much worse things out here in the Pegasus Galaxy to fear than reasonably-predictable weather events— but he was always uneasy until the sun came out again. Sometimes before a storm, his arm would ache. It was the one with the scar from Kolya’s knife, which had long since healed— he knew it was psychosomatic, but somehow he couldn’t stop it.

But it wasn’t until they started sleeping together that he realized how much John hated storms, too.

John was just so good at hiding it that no one had thought to question him. Even Rodney hadn’t known exactly how strong John’s aversion to storms was until he was woken in the middle of the night by a crack of thunder and an unexpected yet familiar weight pinning him to the bed.

Unexpected, because he and John had been sleeping alone for longer than they’d been sleeping together so far, and Rodney’s bed was actually big enough for them to roll away from each other during the night— familiar because Rodney had found himself in that exact position several times before.

Every time there had been a storm during an off-world mission, he’d woken up to find John, sleeping bag and all, half on top of him. He must have been too preoccupied, all those times, to realize that it only happened during storms, and that even after he’d unceremoniously dumped John back on his side of the tent, he still woke up more cheerful than usual, even for him.

And this time, without the layers of sleeping bags and uniforms tangling them up, John had rolled right up against him, head resting on Rodney’s shoulder, hands warm against his skin and one thumb absently stroking the scar on his arm. There was another clap of thunder and John held tighter, pressing his nose against Rodney’s collarbone.

“Hey,” Rodney said, softly, running his hand down John’s spine and trying to remember if he was supposed to wake someone who was possibly having a nightmare. “Sheppard. You’re okay. You’re home, you’re in Atlantis, and everything’s okay…”

Lightning flashed just outside, bright enough to light up the whole room, and the deafening crack of thunder jolted John awake, staring at Rodney with wide eyes before the light faded. In the dark, John’s fingers scrabbled for Rodney’s wrist, and he could feel John’s pulse racing, twice as fast as his own.

“Hey,” Rodney said again. “John.”

He blinked. “Rodney?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m—” John began, but a nearby flash of lightning illuminated Rodney’s scowl, and he let out a long breath. “I just don’t like storms, okay?”

“No, _I_ don’t like storms,” said Rodney. “You have some sort of compulsion to smother people in their—”

He stopped, abruptly, previously unconnected data coming together into one clear hypothesis.

“Not people,” Rodney said, softly. “Just me.”

John snorted. “Got much of an ego, McKay?”

“Shut up, I’m thinking. You don’t even know you’re doing it, do you? It’s only when you’re asleep— or that one time in my lab, and you looked like you had no idea how you’d gotten there.”

“I don’t—” John began, then frowned and sat up. “I’ve done this before?”

“A couple of times,” Rodney hedged.

“Then why didn’t you stop me?”

“Because—” Rodney began. He started to sit up, but flopped back against the pillow. “Because I don’t like storms, either.”

John stared at him for a moment, then snorted a laugh. “We’re kind of pathetic, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Rodney agreed, with a smile. “I guess we are.”

“So,” said John, absently sliding his thumb along Rodney’s wrist. “Wanna be pathetic together?”

“I’ll show you pathetic,” said Rodney, and pounced.

THE END


End file.
